


SMASHBANG: SPYTHRILLER

by JamieBeGood



Series: SMASHBANG [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Dungeons & Dragons Online
Genre: F/M, Multi, Pirate queen vic, Spy genre, Thriller genre, Trope Subversion/Inversion, badass ladies being badass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2018-12-23 00:57:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11978736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieBeGood/pseuds/JamieBeGood
Summary: A fun piratey thriller featuring Braxian heroes, bad communication skills, and fireworks.





	1. Intro: Bracken

Sometime early in the morning, a body floated up in the harbor. No one really seemed concerned, but they fished it out anyways. A woman- dark hair plastered across her face like seaweed, smelling of salt, gunpowder, and ash. The linens she wore had been burned to the skin in some places, tissue peeling and blackened down her torso and holsters for blades hung empty.  
“Should we just toss her back in?” one of the deckhands asked the captain. The woman frowned and pulled a dagger from her belt and let it rest by her mouth, giving a soft laugh when she saw a faint huff of breath on the metal.  
“Not just yet. Take her to the brig, but make sure she's comfortable. She might be one of the one's running from the governor's house.” The captain stood, resheathing the knife with a nod to the first mate.

Three days of touch and go work with the healer on _The Cormorant_ and the woman worked through a delirium from taking in smoke and seawater while her chest and shoulders were patched and bandaged with seaweed tinctures and salves. It made no sense to waste healing potions on someone who may not make it through the week.  
She surprised most of them when on the fourth day she lapsed into the deep sleep that meant she would recover.  
Two days of sleep gave her the strength to sit up and drink the simple broth that had been made from extra vegetables. The captain came down and sat on the bed, taking the empty bowl from her.  
“When you’re ready to speak, I'd like your name. But for now just shake your head for yes or no. Were you involved in the fire at the Archibald house?” she asked gently. A hard glare met the captain's gaze, dark eyes refusing to answer the question.  
“We can't help you if you don't answer.”  
After a long moment she nodded once.  
“Alright. Well. Welcome aboard The Cormorant, I'm Captain Sigourney. We ship out in the morning.” The bowl was left on the table that had been set up and as she stood to walk out, a harsh whisper followed her.  
“Victoria.”  
“Not anymore. We'll start you out with a new name later, for now, rest.”  
Victoria leaned back on her cot and sighed. She counted it as luck that she wound up on a pirate ship, she needed to get away from the city. She needed to heal. She needed answers.

 

**One year, six months later**

He had forgotten to shut the curtains and now he was paying for it. Sunlight streamed through the window and shone directly in his face, waking him up much earlier than he'd wanted. He sighed, rolled carefully off the bed, and jerked the fabric shut quickly, huffing at himself. The room was now comfortably darkened, he rolled his neck and climbed back under the quilt and scooted carefully over to the other body in the bed.  
“Curtains again?” she mumbled, rolling over and pulling her hair out of the way.  
“Not a word,” he ordered, mock stern. She rolled her eyes and ducked her head under the pillow, leaving only her shoulders exposed under her hair. He waited, considering his options before rolling her direction and putting his weight on her.  
“Anton!” she whined under the pillow. He batted the pillow out of the way and prodded her ribs.  
“Yes?”  
“Roll back over you jackass!”  
“No.”  
“Ugh!” She flung her arm behind her, aiming for his ear. She found that one spot behind his ear that was ticklish and pressed. He rolled off and away and she rolled towards the wall, taking her pillow with her.  
“That is cheating!”  
“You rolled onto the fresh ink!” she swatted out with her pillow. He caught the missile with ease, frowning again.  
“Aw hell, let me check it,” he held out his hand, throwing the pillow back to the head of the bed. She turned around and lifted her shirt carefully so he could peel off a fabric bandage on her back, and pulled her hair out of the way.  
A rosemary stalk had been inked into the skin above her hipbone and curled up around and under her shoulder blade. Some of it was still swollen, but there hadn't been any damage done.  
“Looks good. Does it itch?” he asked.  
“Like hell,” she answered, switching her grip so that the shirt was in one hand and she could comb her hair over to one side. He snorted and rolled further to the bedside table for a salve.  
“It's healing up pretty well, I'm pretty proud of it,” he reported, pulling the bandage off. She hitched up her shirt over her shoulders and started braiding the her hair into a single dark blonde braid.  
“I hope you are, the bottom half hurt!” she joked.  
“You volunteered,” he reminded her as he spread the ointment carefully.  
“I know, I'm still going to complain about it,” she sighed. He rebandaged the tattoo and she dropped her shirt, laying back down on its opposing side. He put his things away and rolled back into the blankets.  
“Plans for the day?” he asked, curling an arm around her waist. She met him in the middle of the bed, sighing.  
“Going to help Gads with decorations over by the college, but I don't have to be there until later. Might look for a dress, I dunno.”  
“Getting yourself a fancy pair of brass knuckles?” he teased. She snorted, already half asleep.  
“I might. You never know.”  
“If you show up with any variation of brass knuckles to this festival-” he rolled her over quickly, placing her weight on his. But before he could finish the threat, a knock sounded at the door.  
“Miss Lyra? Captain Roger needs a word,” one of the deckhands called through the door. Lyra let her head fall onto Anton’s chest, sighing heavily.  
“I'll be right there!” she shouted back. She waited until the retreating footsteps faded before putting her head back up and looking at her partner in all seriousness.  
“I need you to make a mess of my hair.”  
“Can do. Come here,” he grinned reaching for the braid and pulling her face to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory "first work, first post" note.
> 
> Hey, folks!


	2. Brass Knuckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stealth isn't always a good thing.

They made the captain wait a decent amount of time, Keggy had already been in the ready room several minutes when Lyra breezed in- her hair a well articulated mess- for whatever the captain needed.  
“Good morning?” the Goliath frowned, eyeing his friend.  
“Very good. Yours?” she gave him a wink, hoping he got the message. He looked at her and then at the fuming pirate by the maps and suddenly knew. She and Anton had been running this game of irking the captain since the gunslinger joined the ship- he had to admire the creativity and lengths they went to sometimes.  
“I had a peaceful sleep, but we're here because the captain wants something,” Keggy replied.  
“Captain Roger knows he's free to visit the brothels anytime, why is he asking us?” she tilted her head, mockingly innocent and keeping him out of the conversation. Roger cleared his throat testily.  
“This be more about what ye want me and mine to be doing during the festival.”  
“Going to it, I should think. We hadn't planned on making all of you stay on board and miss any of the party.” Lyra answered him like he had missed an obvious point, making him frown. Keggy just shrugged.  
“It's true. None of us expected you or your men to want to stay here while there’s a party just up the road,” he inclined his head towards the window, streamers could be seen floating in the breeze.  
“And we much appreciate the consideration. Should we consider leaving a skeleton crew just in case of emergencies?” Roger asked, now obviously ignoring Lyra as she smoothed out her hair and began putting it up for the day.  
“We could. I don't see anything wrong with it,” she answered. Keggy nodded in agreement.  
“That'll be your call, Captain,” he said, letting that be the end of that.  
“Much obliged, the both of you,” Roger nodded, Lyra beamed at him- her smile all teeth and no actual emotion and he left the ready room to inform his crew. Keggy sighed and looked at Lyra balefully, she on the other hand ignored him.  
“I've got to go into town today, I volunteered to help Gads and his group get their tables set up, so I'll be back around dinner unless they have something at the college I don't know about,” she explained as she fished pins from her pocket to hold her work in place.  
“Right. So we'll see you later then?”  
“I mean, unless you want to help me herd a bunch of juvenile sorcerers and wizards all day?” She knew Keggy would probably plead out of it, but she might be able to enlist Tarquin to help wrangle the kids. Sure enough, Keggy stuttered an excuse about ship maintenance and made his exit. She rolled her eyes and went back to her room to grab one of her staves before walking into town.

 

_The Cormorant_ had docked two days prior in Ravenhold’s piers. Slowly but surely the crew trickled off the ship and into the crowds amassing for the festival, fencing merchandise and gathering information.  
Victoria deboarded last, along with two others, the day before the festival carrying a heavy purse and the gratitude of Captain Sigourney. She had recovered well while she was on board- using the alias Nadia- and had gathered all the information she could while steering clear of the war.  
She milled around town, signaling her companions to follow at a distance and look for a hideout if they could. She let her cloak fall back and simply watched people make ready for the festival.  
“Gadwin! Toss me that weight!” A student was setting up some kind of drinking tent on a ladder above her head and she turned to see a tall elven boy hand bagged lead up to the other boy. Gadwin was one of the names she had cataloged away for recon, she just had to wait now and see if this was the right one. Quickly, she melted into the crowd to watch from a distance and took up a spot by a roasting pit.  
“Boys! How much longer until we're set up here? You're needed back at the school to help carry tables out,” a blonde elf approached now, followed by a swarm of bees carrying boxes.  
That had to be her. But she didn't look anything like what she had been told. She was so small, so unintimidating just in leggings and a shirt too big for her, the bag belted around her thigh seemed to be weighing her down. She could be snapped like a twig, and how badly Victoria wanted to snap her in half just standing there. And she looked again, taking herself out of the equation. She needed to know her target and know it well.  
Hair out of her face, pulled away and uneasy to snatch in a fight. Loose clothes to suit the needs of the day (charcoal and dark blue, deep colors even in the summer, odd) and her sleeves rolled past the elbows, heavy boots probably worn out of habit, a couple of necklaces hidden under her shirt. Scars, vein like tracing up her neck in a collar. Had she survived Deathburst? She was either very lucky or tougher than she looked. Possibly both if that was the case. A simple quarterstaff was strapped to her back, between that and the bees in their unusual formation, she could be a caster. She glanced between Gadwin and the little blonde, the grey eyes were the giveaway. She had found who she was looking for. The stories hadn't been entirely falsehoods then. She watched as the female sent the boys back to the school and made her way into the tent with the bee swarm in tow.  
One of her companions slipped up at her beckoning and in Thieves Cant she passed on her instructions, her whisper ragged and dry.  
“Follow the girl. Do not approach her and do not let her see you. I'll find you tonight and let you know the next steps.”

Lyra entered the beer tent with her bees and began to set down more weights at the tent corners, her scalp prickled as she moved around. She was being watched.  
“Who’s there?” she called out softly, spinning to face the entrance of the tent. No one was there, just her bees, waiting patiently. She turned back around and let out a yelp and swung wildly with her left hand.  
Anton ducked and blocked, laughing the whole time.  
“Jumpy?” he laughed, quickly wrapping both arms around her to keep her from swinging again. She sighed heavily, leaning into the embrace on reflex.  
“If by jumpy, you mean surprised then yes. I thought you were on the ship?”  
“I was. And then I went to the barracks to go over security for the festival and now I'm here to make sure you don’t come home with brass knuckles. Again.” He glanced down to her hands to check, visibly relieved she wasn't wearing any.  
“How do you know I haven't bought them and they’re at the college?” she stared at him, one eyebrow lifted. He let her go, stepping back and trying to read her face.  
“You didn't?”  
She smiled and bolted from the tent, scattering the bees and jumping over the box of weights they dropped. He chased after her, not knowing he had been watched the moment he set foot in the square.

She had watched him. Watched him watch her. Knew that look. She reminded herself to stay objective and focus. He made his way around the square, passing behind couples and groups like a seasoned professional. He no longer wore the linen wraps they had been given when they joined the Take, but then again neither did she, instead he had on some kind of bastard leather and plate set- the plate blacker than the leather- and moved without noise. She envied the armor and made mental notes on its construction for later.  
She saw some scars on his face. He hadn't escaped unmarked. Good. He ducked into the tent the elf had gone into after watching from a distance, a bemused expression on his face. She would enjoy wiping it off very soon.  
She thought she would feel something, seeing him again for the first time in over a year- yearning, hope, joy even- but no. All she felt was a cold chill in her hands as she reached for the dagger on her hip. The fire still roared in her ears, the explosion had knocked her through a pile of crates and buried her in burning wood. She knew she was hallucinating, the pain from the debris crushing her chest was almost enough to make her stop struggling and let the mass of burning net and pitch consume her but she kept going until she tumbled off the dock and into the water, but she thought she heard him shouting her name just as she fell. Wishful thinking of her part.  
She watched, interest piqued as the elf woman bolted from the tent and took off further into town laughing like she had made the joke of the century. He followed hot on her trail.  
“Lyra! Get back here and tell me if you did or if you didn't!” He followed her as she darted up the streets, laughing. He was being playful. The sheer nerve. Had he gone soft? She knew, had accepted, the possibility that over time he would move on and take other lovers. But this? A partnership? Companionship? This was a betrayal on top of betrayal. 

Lyra spent the rest of the day avoiding Anton as best she could, hoping he had somehow gotten drafted into moving tables before he could find her in the college. She had been put in charge of Gadwin’s group and they were all moving tents into the square to finish setting up before dusk. They finished their prep work just before dusk, leaving a few hours of time at the market.  
She beelined for the dressmaker’s, picking up something she had ordered weeks before and took the time to try in on. It fit perfectly and she couldn't wait, playing off that she hadn't found anything to wear had been tricky. It was a departure from her usual layers and looser fit clothes, but this was a slightly more formal occasions so something a little nicer seemed worth the coin. The tailor handed the package over after wrapping it up nicely and she carried it under her arm while she continued around the market.  
She boarded the ship with a basket full of things for dinner, dropping them off in the galley and taking what she had purchased for herself on to her room. She slipped in and began unloading more books and hid the purchase from the tailor's shop in her trunk. Just as she closed the lid, the door opened again and Anton entered eyeing her suspiciously.  
“What did you buy?” he asked, shutting the door. She smiled and stood up, gesturing at the bed.  
“Some books. Replaced some old clothes. I looked for something for tomorrow, but nothing really caught my eye.”  
“No brass knuckles?” he stepped forward, dropping his hands to her waist. She smiled, stepping into his space and kissing the tip of his nose. He sighed and let his posture relax, she was being impossible.  
“No, no brass knuckles. Just books,” her tone had sharpened a little. He couldn't tell if she was getting defensive or being testy so he wrapped his arms around her waist and bent his head to her neck, aiming for where her throat and jaw connected. She jerked back, the telltale click of the clasp on her bag giving away what his hands had actually been doing. She glared at him as she unhooked the belts that held it and unblinkingly dumped the contents onto the floor.  
Several potions, a knife, a coin pouch, a pack of cards, and a fabric swatch landed around their feet as his face turned red. No brass knuckles, decorative or otherwise. She dropped the bag and stepped back to her trunk and flipped it open, turning to grab a change of clothes and make sure he saw the interior.  
“Lyra-” he started, but she slammed the lid shut and blew past him, leaving the door open as she left. He sat down and began putting her things back in the bag, stopping at the fabric swatch. It was too small to be a handkerchief and Lyra usually wore dark colors- this was emerald green and shimmering.  
He put it back in the bag and set it gently on top of her trunk before heading up to the top deck. He spent most of the evening with the deck hands, cleaning the bow and clearing his head, eating with Tawnie as the city lit up in the night. He was grateful the gnome didn't say anything, simply eyed him up and down before scooting a bread basket his way.  
“Want me to talk to her?” she asked as he got up to take his plate to the kitchen.  
“Thanks, but I think I need to handle this one,” he shrugged. She waved him on and he walked up to their room, bracing for a fight.  
She was already asleep. He sighed heavily for what felt like the hundredth time that day and got ready to sleep in silence. 

Across town, Victoria was at work. She had obtained several maps and had staked out a building left abandoned after a fire, she guessed it to be a bakery. The remnants of a giant stone oven lay sprawled across the floor, but she cared more about using the giant marble slab as a battle map.  
She had spent the day collecting names- Keggeroch, Tawnie, Nox, a pirate captain Roger. She knew now what they looked like and where they were most likely to be during the festival. The tail she had put on Lyra should be returning soon with the rest of the information she needed. She took a sip of some brandy she had nicked from a pub and relaxed her shoulders.  
There had been days on the ship when she wondered if it would be worth it, all this planning and clinging to scraps of rumor. Sigourney had offered her a place in the crew, but she knew in her soul she needed to finish this. Whether it was worth it or not, she had to know why she had been abandoned, why he had left her to die, why he had forgotten her so quickly and so readily.  
The light flickered just a little and her eyes tracked the other two thieves as they entered.  
“Rollo. Audrey.”  
“Victoria,” they replied. She pointed to carefully marked indicators on the map, turning to Cant.  
“Make sure you're here when the festival starts. I want to know when they arrive. What did you learn?”  
Audrey lowered her hood, horns shimmering faintly as she poured herself a glass of brandy.  
“The elf was by herself most of the day after she left the square. She did more work at the school- you were correct, her brother is among the students- and then shopped. It should interest you that she and your target share a bed on their ship and that they seemed to have had a fight. I couldn't get close enough to read lips, but body language didn't lie.” Victoria smiled, she remembered fighting with Anton. Their tempers always flared hot, but not as hot as what came after they finished fighting. She might be a tad jealous of the elf, but only a little.  
“Does she appear to be a caster?” she asked. The tiefling shrugged.  
“I never saw her use magic, but that doesn't mean she isn't. Her brother is a sorcerer of some kind, but the nature of magic is fickle.”  
Rollo moved to the door, his hood still up, and began watching the street.  
“Very well. We shall just have to plan for the worst. I'll lure him here, you two get at least her back to the ship. Anyone else is a bonus, I want that thing up in flames before we leave. For now, rest. I need you to keep an eye on them in the morning while I scout the square, I don't care to see the ceremony,” she waved off her other companion, staring at the map. The two rooted around for a little while and made themselves comfortable before finally curling up and dozing off. Victoria waited an hour before slipping out through the hole in the roof and jumping down to the street a few blocks away.  
She found her way to a bar in the slums, not bothering to buy a drink. She looked for her contact and set up the arrangement, slipping half her coin purse across the table. The contact nodded and smiled. She had her Plan B in place then- if she failed the ship would still go up in flames. He would still suffer.  
She made her way back to the bakery and sat up against the wall as comfortably as she could before drifting off, the prospect of tomorrow soothing her more than anything had in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote a true badass...  
> "Brass knuckles are brass knuckles."


	3. Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Errbody in the club getting tipsy!

Anton woke first and pulled his uniform from his trunk as quietly as he knew how and went to get cleaned up. Lyra was still asleep when he came back in, curled around his pillow. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed and leaned back against the headboard, shaking her shoulder gently.  
“Time to get up.”  
“No. No it's not,” she mumbled in protest. He smiled and bent down to her ear.  
“It is. The festival starts soon. I have to go, I'll see you later dear,” he replied, kissing along her hairline as he stood up. She reached back for his hand but moved too slow. She blinked and rolled over, not fully understanding yet but she saw him pause at the door and turn to look at the bed as she lifted onto her elbows. Neither of them were quite ready to talk about the day before yet, but as Lyra got out of the bed she reached for his elbow and pulled him back a little to kiss his cheek before he left and give a quick wink.  
“See you at the ceremony.” He didn't quite know what the wink was for, but he was glad they were speaking. He smiled as he walked up to the deck, waving at Keggy before he disembarked. As he passed the docks, a human picked up his trail and followed him into the barracks as he and a battalion got into parade formation and began their march into town. Rollo watched and followed, waiting for word from Audrey.

Soldiers carried banners around the square as people turned out for the day of drinking and dance. Whole pigs had been roasting since early that morning and everyone could smell it mingling with the smoke, it was hard to not be in a good mood.  
There were cheers when the city aldermen took the stage by the fountain and made their speeches. At a gesture Anton climbed the steps and looked up to see Keggy, in a clean kilt and sash walking up the other side of the platform. He was more than a little relieved to see his friend as he moved behind the aldermen and watched everyone come up the steps as Keggy stepped to one side. Tawnie came up after, wearing Mystrl’s robes cut to her size and her hair up in a pile looking regal. Nox was next also wearing ceremonial robes- he had forgotten how many members of the party were some kind of religious. And then someone else came up the stairs, someone in an emerald green dress that skated over her shoulders and and hips.  
Lyra? Was that Lyra? Had he ever seen her in a dress? What had she done to her hair?  
He knew he was staring and he couldn't stop. She had braided her hair down and woven it into a multi strand length instead of keeping it up and out of her face and he unabashedly gave her a once over as she got closer. She glanced his way and smirked, knowing she had made a hell of an entrance where it counted.  
She came and stood next to him, he glanced over as the rest of the team took their places. How had she snuck that into their room? Were those cutouts on her waist? He glanced again and confirmed, they were indeed. Three diamond shaped spots along her ribs, starting from her waist climbing up, opening from the size of his palm down to the size of a copper coin. Who had made that dress and how much did he need to tip them? She felt him looking and turned her head just a little and smiled right at him. Goddamit. 

They stood through a ceremony and were given laurel wreaths, the beaten metal resting lightly on their heads and flashing in the sun. At one point he thought he saw Gadwin making faces at all of them, trying to see who would crack first.  
The speeches wrapped up just as most of them were feeling a little sunburnt and they were dismissed to join the crowds and revelry. Lyra beelined for her brother to reach upside his head with a smack. The taller elf laughed despite it and picked his sister up and took her over to where he saw Anton standing and plunked her down in front of him, nearly knocking her wreath out of her hair.  
“I found a pretty little bird, know what I should do with it?” he asked. Lyra whirled on Gads, one hand already sketching a spell.  
“Run before she kicks your ass into next year, kid.” Anton reached and took her hand, letting him run off into the crowd.  
“Oh come on, just one hex,” she muttered. He laced his fingers with hers and tugged her towards an ale tent, shaking his head.  
“Sorry dear, but he has a point. You look lovely.” The stripe of pink that had appeared across her nose from the sun deepened as she grabbed a mug and took a drink. A medallion she had chosen for the day clinked against other mugs when she leaned over the table.  
“Yes, well. It seemed appropriate for the occasion.”  
“I'll say,” he took his own mug and made cursory glance around the tent. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and for once there weren't any pressing dangers. “Want to drink these a little too fast and disappear for a while?”  
“I thought you'd never ask.” She tipped her beer back lightning fast, tossing a silver at the waitress as she ran ahead of him.

The sun had set hours ago and most everyone was well into their cups. Lyra and Anton had snuck off and returned twice before Tawnie caught them and forced them into the center of the dancers as punishment. They both took it in stride and Lyra never noticed her necklace lifted off her neck during the twirling.  
Gadwin found his sister and stole her away for a few turns in the dance circles, leaving Anton to wander around a roasting pit and pick up a second plate. He made his way back to the giant dance floor and watched the crowd weave in and out.  
“She really is a pretty little bird,” someone said next to him- he glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw a human male, dark clothes and a hood covering most of his face.  
“I'm sure she'd like to hear that from you, friend,” he answered neutrally, keeping an eye on his new companion and shifting his posture.  
“I’m sure she would.” The man threw back his hood to expose a shaved head and a tattoo of the Slayer’s Take insignia inked above his ear. His heart thrummed as the man moved through the crowd of dancers and requested a dance. He felt a little bit of calm return when she waved him off and he vanished. At least he had a face for someone, but he needed to get her away from the crowd and now. He set the plate down and tuned to step into the circle when a voice he never thought he’d hear again froze him in his tracks.  
“Oh relax, Rollo won't hurt her.”  
Alarms screamed in his head to not turn and not look, but he did. It wasn't a trick. Victoria. She was right there, leaning against the same pillar he had been. Bile rose in his throat as she righted her posture and came to stand next to him, looking out at the crowd.  
“Quite the roots you've put down, sweetheart. One would think you moved on and never looked back.” The menace was overt, it made his throat catch.  
“Victoria-” he finally stammered. She turned away resting her hand lightly on his arm. He started, looking down at the contact.  
“I don't want to hear it. If you want your precious bird to make it through the evening, you'll find me before midnight,” she spat, never looking at his face. She stalked away and knew he was watching her melt into the crowd. She had rattled him. Good.

He whipped his head back around, not hiding his panic. Lyra had vanished. Gads was nowhere to be seen. He darted around, searching as fast as he could.  
“Anton!”  
He thanked whichever god was close by as Lyra came into view, carrying two mugs. Her face fell as she got closer, seeing his panic.  
“What's happened? What's wrong?” He was still trying to make sense of what just happened. Words were failing him. He finally just let the only thing he could think of that she might understand come out.  
“Victoria.”  
It had to be an elf thing, to be able to sober up at the drop of a hat. She pressed a mug into his hand and was suddenly all business.  
“Walk with me and try not to look like you just saw a dead woman,” she looped her arm through his and began leading him away from the throng.  
“Lyra-” he tried to stop her, he needed to tell her the danger.  
“Your exgirlfriend is some kind of not dead and here with our family and friends. We need to get to the ship, now. My things are there,” she hissed as they wove down back alleys. A switch flipped in his internal system and he dropped the mug he had been holding and bolted ahead of her. “Waste good beer, alright,” he heard her complain as she poured her own out and ran to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: it's not an elf thing, Lyra just drinks a lot.


	4. First Blood

The ship was undisturbed much to their mutual relief. Lyra ran down the stairs and darted into their room, coming back out with her staff, pieces of armor, and the key to the armory. He let himself in with the key and fumbled around, unable to focus on the weapons he was strapping to his chest and waist. He didn't hear Lyra trying to speak until very suddenly- BANG!  
He spun around with a dagger half drawn, adrenaline pumping through his system, and saw Lyra aiming a pistol at the door. Had he been that far gone? He stepped over to her and quickly pulled the gun out of her grip.  
“Like I was saying, what does she want?” Lyra asked, pulling pieces of armor on over her dress, glad he was finally listening.  
“I honestly don't know. I thought she died at the docks. She seemed intent on our meeting,” he replied, giving his weapons a final pat down. Lyra hadn't answered, she seemed more focused on buckling on her chestplate.  
“Please be careful,” she finally whispered, turning to watch him pace. He paused and met her gaze, more than a little confused.  
“What do you mean?”  
“This is a trap, I know you know it. But what kind?” She belted on her bag quickly, not needing to look at the buckles.  
“I won't know until I find her. But you need to get back to the others and let them know there’s trouble.”  
She nodded, reaching for her staff and then thinking better of it. Before he had turned back to the table that held the ammunition, she had crossed the room and taken his face in her hands.  
“Be safe. Don't lose your head.” And she pulled him close, squeezing around his neck just a little. He felt some of the tension in his chest ease and he held her there for a little longer than he would have otherwise.  
“I make no promises, but I'll try,” he pressed a quick kiss to her temple and took a deep breath, taking a moment to compartmentalize and get his head back into the game. Lyra stepped back and twisted her braid up and out of the way, slipping a thin dart in to secure the knot, before taking up her staff. He paused at the door and gave her one more kiss to try and calm the remaining panic he felt beneath his ribs, “I'll see you back here before sun up.”  
“Kick her ass all the way back to Ollebelle if you have to,” she answered, the acid in her reply melting more of his fear. He smiled at the unusual image it gave him- a prolonged dropkick- and walked up the stairs to disembark into the town.

Lyra stayed on the ship for another few minutes and listened. It had been too quiet since they came aboard and even if Roger left a skeleton crew they should have seen someone by now. She waited in the armory, breathing slowly and not moving, and listened for noises that weren't part of the ship.  
There- over by the wheel. Someone was pacing and humming a tune, they hadn't been there when she and Anton boarded. They had walked into a trap. Or at least he had walked out of one. She was still in the kill box. Hrafn was in her bag- she pulled him out quickly and summoned the bird with a few quick instructions whispered in Sylvan- and switched the knife to her off hand.  
As she quietly made her way up to the deck, she looked for the person at the wheel. They made no attempts at hiding, whoever they were. A tall figure, cloaked, pacing slowly and still humming. She walked closer and called out in Common.  
“I don't recall giving you permission to board my ship, stranger.”  
The figure stopped and turned, pulling down their hood to reveal the horns of a tiefling. Audrey smiled at Lyra, waving her fingers as if in greeting.  
“But you did, sweet girl. You did back in town when we became fast friends.” The dark purple energy was almost invisible in the dark, but still the spell was wasted on Lyra.  
“Did you really just try to charm an elf? I'm fey, you fucking dimwit!” she spat, shaking her head as the magic dissipated. Audrey smiled, pulling knives from her belt.  
“I like this one Rollo. She's got a mouth on her.”  
At the summons, Rollo jumped from the rigging and landed next to his partner and started circling the deck. Lyra took a defensive stance, the tentacles on her staff writhing silently in anticipation.  
“Evening sweetheart. I hope you don't mind, I brought another dance partner. Mind if we share?” he smiled to Lyra.  
“Both of of you at the same time? I guess tonight is my lucky night.” She smiled back to the two of them- more baring her teeth than anything that could be considered inviting.  
“We’ll make sure it's as good for you as it will be for us, don't worry,” Audrey stepped from around the wheel and began forming another spell. Lyra spared her a glance, teeth still bared.  
“I promise we'll have a grand time. Safe word is ‘bingo’!” At the signal, Hrafn burst from the open galley doors and into Rollo’s back, clawing and screeching as Audrey and Lyra began firing cantrips at each other.

 

Anton walked slowly through the town, watching revelers and looking for Victoria as he moved. Just as he moved into the market district he saw her, leaned against a stall and watching the people go by. As calmly as he could he leaned on her right, not moving for a few moments.  
“You know, for a little while I thought you'd do something supremely stupid,” she muttered, pushing away and motioning for him to follow.  
“You know me well enough to know I'd rather settle this just between us.” She led him between alleys and down sideroads, the tension became unbearable as they entered a burned out bakery.  
“Do I?” she whispered, vanishing into the shadow. “I thought I did.”   
A dagger whipped past his ear as a warning shot and he heard it impact wood. That wasn’t a warning. She was aiming to injure, possibly kill.   
“What's going on here?” He slowly backed up to where the knife had impacted and drew one of his own. Gunshots would draw too much attention and the light was too dim for him to get a good shot off anyways.  
“You left us, left me, to burn!” She appeared from nowhere, kicking him square in the chest.  
“I had to! I could find any of you! And the target was escaping, I had to make a choice Victoria,” he gasped, dodging the flurry of blows she was raining down around his head.  
“Oh I heard about how you pinned it on the driver. That was clever. Too bad I had to hear about it after I was fished out of the water like dead wood!”  
The taunts continued as he backed away, feinted, and dodged until she had backed him into a counter. He saw an opening finally, she swung wide with her left arm and he punched upwards into the juncture of her arm and shoulder- deadening the limb. She snarled and backed away as he pressed the advantage and darted forward. He smacked the inside of her wrist with the handle of his blade- a sharp cry indicating she had dropped the weapon- and he picked her up by the throat with his free hand. With the surprise waning he turned and slammed her down into the marble, knocking her breathless.  
“Enough! Just, enough! I don’t understand, tell me what you want!” he roared into her face. She smiled through gasps for air.  
“I want you here so I can watch you unravel.”  
“I knew you were cruel, but this? This is something else, Victoria.” His heart broke a little more, he knew he was responsible for this. He had to stop her. She brought her leg around and up, knocking his head into the counter. He stumbled back and got ready to fight again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Slow heavy metal music plays in the background]


	5. Crow's Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Insert Celene Dion ballad here?)

Lyra kicked out hard, sending the remains of Rollo overboard and into the bay to join what was left of Audrey. Hrafn circled her head in slow circles as she made a quick inspection of the ship. The crew members were passed out at the galley table- thankfully alive- from something in their drinks. She stowed her armor and her staff back in her room, taking up another knife so she could climb the mast again to make repairs from the fighting she had just finished.  
She and Hrafn took the slower way up, inspecting the ropes and sails for anything out of place. She chatted to the bird in Sylvan as her now ruined dress blew up around her in the breeze.  
“I don’t even know why I bothered, honestly. This thing wasn’t even worth how long it lasted today.” The bird landed on the cross beam and began tugging at her skirt, ripping one of the tears even further up her thigh. “Oh come on now! That wasn’t permission to be a little shit!” As she turned to shoo the bird from her feet a flaming arrow sliced across her left temple and buried itself in the mast where her head had just been  
She immediately dropped flat to the mast and let her body become mist and disappear. Hrafn took to the sky, the wind from his wings putting out the arrow, and she watched him go- not letting herself think about how closely she had just come to death. That bird had saved her life. He dove at something across the harbor and she immediately sent herself there, grateful she had saved that particular spell.  
Two more were on the roof. Helmeted so she couldn’t see their faces, but by now blood was running down her face so it hardly mattered anyways. Her appearance startled them and they drew their bows as she reached into her bag and pulled out her iron gloves. Faint grey and amber energy buzzed around the weapons as she clenched her fists.  
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” she spat, slowly stepping forward.  
“Nothing personal, miss. We have our orders,” the shorter of the two replied, sounding almost bored. Hrafn dove, breaking the bow in one swoop as she sprinted forward and drew back her fist. Electricity sparked around the knuckles and the clang of iron connecting with iron rang over the water as the first one dropped from the jolt to their head and her rebuke. They’d get up again, but hopefully not before she had a chance to take out the other one.

 

They were both exhausted. She had thrown him out of the building once already, not long after he had put her in a headlock. Both their punches had been landing slower and slower as the minutes wore on.  
“Won’t be long now!” She kept cheering. It was driving him insane.  
“What? Until we kill each other? What do you win then?”  
“I’ve already won. I won the moment you left that ship,” she hissed, slipping up and swinging wildly. He bearhugged, not trying to be elegant in his tactics anymore.  
“Please Victoria, if you’ve already won, tell me what this is about. We can still end this and no one has to get hurt,” he begged. That seemed to break her, she collapsed against him- laughing or sobbing he couldn’t tell.  
“You’re lying. You lied before and you’re lying now. Does that poor little elf you’ve been fucking know you’re a liar?”  
“Victoria?” He let his grip relax and she made no moves to attack. “When did I lie to you?”  
She pushed her hair out of her face, eyes gone razor sharp.  
“We were lovers, Anton. Let’s be adults here and admit feelings came into play at some point,” she spat. He recoiled a little, unprepared for the turn this had took. But she was here, she deserved he truth he had thought he would never get to tell her.  
“They did. I won’t let you think I didn’t love you, I still do in a fashion.”  
“And yet you move on so quickly.” He nearly missed the snark, but after enough time with both Tawnie and Lyra he knew to expect it.  
“Not like you think.” He began unbuckling his belts and holsters, laying them carefully on the counter. His shirt followed. He turned and remained still, not flinching when cool fingers traced the simple linework of her name and the scars on his shoulder. “I had a few weeks of recovery in the next town over. All reports indicated the driver was the only survivor,” he explained as her hand withdrew. He pulled his clothes back on, buttoning mechanically. Her expression was closed off, no clues given away. “I left. The Take had me go into hiding for a little while and after a few months I met the team. I think you know the rest, at least in highlights. I wasn’t always with them, there was an embarrassing stint as an elven prisoner of war, but it worked itself out.” He was rambling, but her expression hadn’t changed and he was getting nervous again.  
“You thought I was dead?” she finally muttered. He nodded.  
“And by all accounts, the Take did too. If you haven’t gotten back in touch with them, you could start over. I did. Freedom is a wonderful thing, Victoria.” He leaned against the counter, putting off what seemed inevitable by resuming the fight. “I said I loved you. I meant it. I think I always might, or at the very least not bear you any ill will. But we're not the same people anymore.”  
Her face clouded over as she frowned, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a pendant. He recognized it immediately and felt his heart drop into the Nine Hells.  
“No, we're not. I suppose you're right. And I suppose if I really am going to start fresh as a free woman, I should tell you the truth too. Your elf is probably dead. That boat was set up to be a death trap.” She tossed him the necklace and he caught it one handed, slipping his belts back on with the other.  
“Why?” he whispered.  
“I wanted to rip your world apart. Simple,” she shrugged as she started to assist him, like the old days. It took less time and in seconds they were cutting through the alleys and climbing onto the roofs to race to the docks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hrafn is technically a raven, but whatever.


	6. Chapter 6

"How long were you watching us?” he asked as they jumped.  
“Two or three days. I’d heard everything else secondhand from sailors as I travelled,” she called back. They crossed town in relative silence, only speaking when the docks drew up close. The ship was still intact- but no one was around for blocks.  
“She had better be safe." He didn’t bother keeping the edge out of his voice as they slipped down a gutter and onto the boardwalk. Victoria had the decency to look ashamed as they sprinted onto the ship, taking stock of burn marks in the wood and blood smeared across one sail.   
“Lyra?” he called, heading down the galley stairs. Her staff and armor were in their room. Now he was panicking. He burst back up to the deck, drawing a gun and aiming it at Victoria. Blood pounded in his ears, how could he have just left her on her own?  
“Where is she?!”  
“I’m right here. What the fuck is she doing on my ship?”   
He nearly dropped the pistol as he whipped in the direction of her voice. She was walking onto the ship carrying two quivers over one shoulder- Hrafn perched on the other- all of her left side covered in what he hoped was someone else’s blood. Her dress, the one she had kept a secret and surprised him with, was torn from hem to waist near one leg and both sleeves were completely gone. Her gloves still crackled with energy as she stalked up the gangplank, her free hand suddenly lit up with an eldritch flame. He had never in his life seen anything more terrifying and more perfect.  
“Just bringing your boyfriend home safe, dear. It seems I made several misjudgements," Victoria answered, holding her hands up in surrender. Anton holstered the pistol as Lyra advanced, stepping in between the two of them. Hrafn cackled indignantly and kept his focus on Victoria, who waved at the bird with her fingertips.  
“Explain,” she demanded, not looking away from Victoria.   
“Just, ah, quickly one question. Where are Audrey and Rollo?” It looked like she knew the answer already but was asking for her own amusement.  
“Bottom of the bay. Want to go talk to them?” The bloodied side of Lyra’s face darkened when she flicked her eyebrow up and reopened the wound. Victoria laughed and slowly took a step towards them. Lyra tensed and the flame in her hand leapt up her arm even higher.  
“That won't be necessary. Just confirming a few hunches,” she let a hand rest on Anton’s shoulder and he felt some of the worst spots heal. Breathing came easier as his ribs knitted back together in multiple places.  
“Travel had been good for you,” Anton remarked. She never would have dropped a spell on anyone else when they were a team.  
“When one crewman goes down, the ship is weaker for it,” Victoria remarked almost mechanically. She held her palm out to Lyra, who finally dropped the spell and removed a glove. She set her hand carefully in Victoria’s as Hrafn chattered in warning.  
“Good little bird. Wouldn't want you to take my eyes out,” Victoria purred. Lyra frowned but said nothing as the spell closed up the cut on her face without a scar. Very slowly and very carefully, Victoria cupped Lyra's face and inspected her handiwork. “A thousand apologies for tonight dear. My first mistake was thinking he'd roll over and die like the common rabble, second mistake was thinking anyone that chose him would do the same.”  
Lyra’s eyes narrowed as she let Victoria rotate her head. Some of the pieces came together but she was still missing something.  
“What would have happened had this plan succeeded?” she asked. Victoria sighed and dropped Lyra’s face.  
“I hadn't thought that far ahead to be truthful with you.”  
They stared each other down for a few moments, understanding passing between the two women in the silence.  
“I'll leave you two for a minute. I want you off my ship before the fireworks start, Victoria. Understood?” Lyra barked, turning to the galley and muttering to Hrafn. The raven perched over the galley doors and continued to stare at Victoria.  
“If she ever leaves you, send me a letter,” Victoria muttered. Anton couldn't couldn't hold back his eyeroll and wasn't at all surprised when she started laughing.  
“I think I'll just do you both a favor and throw myself in the harbor first, should that come to pass,” he sighed. She smiled for the first time since he had laid eyes on her that evening and he remembered the first time he saw her and she smiled at him the same way. Before it would have dazzled him just a little, now he just remembered when it did and it made him a little sad. “What will you do now?” he asked.  
Victoria sighed and leaned against the railing, searching his face.  
“I have a spot on a ship. I could go back there and back to the sea, but I don't know. Freedom and all that.”  
“Freedom and all that.” He nodded, he remembered the moments of indecision that plagued him when he first left the Take. “Trust your gut, Victoria. It's rarely wrong.”  
She stared past him and out to the sea for a few more moments before pushing off the railing and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.  
“Well old friend, if you ever run into _The Cormorant_ give a shout for Nadia. If I'm on board you and the ship have an ally!” She left the ship smiling, walking into town as fireworks shot up over the city.

Anton sighed and walked down, not bothered when Hrafn flew ahead of him to their room. The bird was slowly melting into the dagger he resided in when he opened the door and found the room empty.  
“Lyra?” he called. He waited and listened for any noise, finally hearing something from the wash room. He slid his boots off and padded down the hall and knocked on the door. “It's me!”  
The door opened and she let him in. She had been scrubbing the blood off of her face, her dress was soaked in the front.  
“Need help?” he held a hand out. She nodded, turning around so he could unlace the dress. “This was the most tragic loss of the night, if anyone asks me.”  
“I'll say. I can't ever look that tailor in the face again,” she shrugged out of the garment and jumped into the tub. He hesitated- much to his detriment. The second he turned away from the tub Lyra splashed his back with as much water as she could.  
“Excuse you?!” he huffed as water ran down his collar.  
“Indeed. You do realize we have the ship to ourselves and tonight is definitely one of the top ten weirdest we have ever had?” She rest her chin on her knees, letting him process the last bit of information.  
“We do have the ship to ourselves,” he began unbuttoning his overcoat.  
“There it is,” she smiled as the coat hit the floor.

 

The next morning the two of them stood on the deck taking bets on who would show up first. The crew had woken up not long after they had gotten into the kitchen for breakfast and Lyra was eternally grateful no questions were asked- it probably helped that they were too embarrassed by being caught off guard.  
Now she stood in her pajamas next to Anton, hot mug of tea in hand and a sea breeze blowing through her hair. It was peaceful and a stark contrast to what had happened twelve hours earlier.  
“I should probably apologize, officially,” Anton remarked. She tilted her head his direction, not quite sure what he meant. “I don't think we ever quite fully made up for my trying to go through your things.”  
She smiled and looped her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder.  
“You’re more than forgiven. And I think I should apologize for being an ass. You put a lot of work into the festival yesterday. And you didn't even get to enjoy it properly!”   
“You're a saint. A saint made out of forgiveness and alcohol. But think I did, I was there for the important things!” He let his head rest onto hers as she tried not to laugh.  
“Important things? Like what? Tawnie catching us behind the beer tent?”  
“She shouldn't have followed us!” he huffed. Lyra laughed and took a sip of her tea, watching the boardwalk for signs of life.  
After a few more minutes the spotted Keggy and Nox coming up the wooden planks. Tawnie was perched on Keggy's shoulders, but it looked like she had fallen asleep draped over his head.  
“Morning, family!” Nox called as he strolled onto the deck and right past them to the stairs. “Goodnight, family!” he shouted before disappearing.  
Keggy paused at the bow, Lyra and Anton didn't move as they watched him eye the sail- still smeared with a bright red bloodstain- and the giant black circle burnt just into the surface of the deck.  
“I don't think I want to know what any of this means, you two get into some weird shit when you go off on your own,” the goliath finally concluded, following Nox down the stairs and taking care not to knock Tawnie against the beam.  
They waited until his steps faded before falling to the deck, cackling like he had told them the joke of the millennium.  
“Perfect. Too perfect,” Anton sighed as Lyra wiped her eyes.   
“Fuck it. I’m going back to bed,” she stood up and reclaimed her tea. Anton stood and took his mug with him, following and looking forward to a day of doing nothing.

_The Cormorant_ pulled out of the harbor as quietly as it slipped in. Captain Sigourney seemed quite pleased to see Victoria back on board that morning and didn't ask too many questions. It didn't bother her too much that the captain didn't want to know right away, she'd tell her eventually. If she felt like it.  
Freedom was a funny thing like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever read back through a thing you wrote and get really embarrassed? But hey, cheers to growth!
> 
> Tbh, this was the first thing I ever finished so I'm nostalgic about it.


End file.
